Staying in a hotel room with someone's daughter, only to get caught by her father downstairs, was… well, awkward.
Fortunately, Ryan's Dao Heart was like iron, and he managed to hold himself together.
The police car sped through New York traffic and, twenty minutes later, screeched to a stop right across from Osborn Tower.
Only then did the suffocating tension inside the car ease slightly.
George Stacy smiled stiffly at his daughter. "Gwen, go to work. Daddy needs to have a little talk with your boyfriend."
Gwen glanced nervously at her father, then looked pitifully at Ryan.
Ryan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, silently telling her it would be fine.
Seeing that small gesture, George's eyebrow twitched—and his hand, almost on instinct, reached for the Remington on the passenger seat.
Gwen immediately shot him a warning glare.
"Daddy, you promised me you wouldn't make things hard for Ryan."
"I promised," George replied through gritted teeth. "Now go, you're already late for work."
Gwen sighed. "Darling, even though my dad can be a bit stubborn… just humor him, okay?"
Ryan chuckled. "Of course. I'll get along great with Uncle George. Give me a kiss for luck."
"Mwah!"
After the farewell kiss, Gwen reluctantly walked toward the entrance of Osborn Tower—turning back three times before finally disappearing inside.
Ryan turned to face George, offering an awkward but polite smile. "Uncle George, we meet again."
"Heh. Boy, you've got guts," George said coldly. "Want my old friend here to give you a kiss too?"
He patted the polished Remington with obvious threat.
If it were anyone else, that might've worked.
But George was dealing with a Cultivator whose Dao Heart couldn't be shaken.
Before Foundation Establishment, the gun might've posed a minor threat. But now? Ryan had already achieved Foundation Establishment.
Forget a Remington—George could be holding an RPG, and it still wouldn't scratch him.
Of course, that wasn't an excuse for Ryan to be disrespectful to his "father-in-law."
So he kept his composure, replying with calm politeness, "Uncle George, I can explain everything about me and Gwen. But… are you sure you want to do this here?"
He gestured toward the sidewalk, where several passersby were already watching the standoff curiously.
"This is Manhattan, Uncle. You really want tomorrow's paper to say 'Police Chief Threatens Daughter's Boyfriend with a Shotgun'?"
George: "…"
Embarrassed, George looked around and saw the onlookers whispering.
With a muttered curse, he shoved the Remington into the trunk and growled, "Damn brat, come with me."
Five minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in a quiet, upscale coffee shop.
George's expression was fierce, trying to crush Ryan with his gaze.
Ryan stirred his coffee calmly, meeting the man's glare with effortless poise.
"Damn it," George muttered under his breath, frustrated that his intimidation wasn't working.
He was the Chief of the 13th Precinct of the NYPD. Even hardened criminals trembled before him. Yet this kid didn't even blink.
"Ryan Sullivan," George began sharply, "head of the thirteen major organizations controlling New York's underground network. Eldest son of the Sullivan Family—whose 'businesses' range from real estate to… less savory activities."
He leaned forward. "Don't get cocky, kid. I'm the law. You're the thief."
Ryan didn't flinch.
In this world—especially the Western world where capital ruled—the line between the law and the underworld was never clear.
Ryan took a sip of his coffee and replied calmly, "Uncle, you missed a few things."
George frowned. "Like what?"
Ryan leaned back, his tone casual. "In addition to the Sullivan Family's inherited industries, I'm also the Chairman of Presbyterian Hospital, a board member at Osborn Industries, and a member of the U.S. Environmental Protection Association as well as the International Naturalist Organization."
"Oh—and about four months ago, the Secretary-General of the United Nations personally awarded me the Knight of Natural Environment Protection Medal. The Mayor of New York even nominated me to run for city council."
George: "…"
The underground business was something Ryan had inherited. Since taking over, he'd stayed out of public scandals and maintained an immaculate image.
In the eyes of society, Ryan Sullivan wasn't a crime lord—he was a respected philanthropist and businessman.
With that reputation, even the Director of the New York General Bureau wouldn't dare to offend him lightly.
George's expression softened slightly, though his pride kept him from admitting defeat.
Ryan noticed and didn't push further. He smiled and changed the subject.
"Uncle, Gwen once told me about the accident when she was seven—how Aunt Helen almost died. That must've been hard."
George's face darkened instantly. His hand slammed the table before he could stop himself.
Ryan raised his hands calmly. "Uncle, I don't mean to threaten you. Please, hear me out."
George narrowed his eyes. "Then what do you mean?"
Ryan smiled faintly. "Just that this world doesn't operate in simple black and white. You of all people should know that."
"If you've investigated me, Uncle, you should also know I'm not some corrupt scumbag. Gwen is my first girlfriend—and I love her."
He leaned forward, his tone sincere. "Whatever you think of my background, I've never done anything to hurt her. On the contrary, I'll make sure Gwen and Aunt Helen live better, safer lives."
Ryan paused, then added with a hint of humor, "And if you ever need a little… career investment, I could help with that too. You know—maybe as the next Director of the NYPD General Bureau… or even the next Mayor of New York."